Walk on the Water Slide: Lou Reed played Marriott’s Great America in 1986

While digging in the Chronicle photo archives last month, looking for a Laserium listing in the pink section, I found a 1988 advertisement for rock concerts at Marriott’s Great America. This was back when admission at the Santa Clara theme park plus $5 might allow you to see The Beach Boys, Sha Na Na, Kool and the Gang, or another nostalgic family-friendly band in the outdoor Redwood Amphitheater.

It reminded me of the current concert series at the Santa Cruz Beach Boardwalk, where Eddie Money and surviving member(s) of Herman’s Hermits will always have a home. I photographed the advertisement off our ancient microfiche machine, posted it on Twitter, and received this response.

Lou Reed?!?

My first reaction: Absolutely impossible. The late Lou Reed is a brilliant but stubborn and hard-compromising artist, who released the critically napalmed “Metal Machine Music,” then brought it back 25 years later for a tour. He was a tough interview for journalists. I couldn’t imagine a scenario short of kidnapping where he would agree to play in the shadow of the Tidal Wave roller coaster, singing “Sweet Jane” for parents pushing around strollers filled with funnel cake-gorged toddlers.

Then again, it was the mid/late 1980s. This was a weird time, when hair metal bands and MTV’s sudden cabal-like dominance turned the concept of “quality music” on its head. It was the record industry equivalent of an El Nino event. Strange musical things washed up on shore between 1985 and 1994, like the Beach Boys working with rappers, Jimmy Page making an album with David Coverdale, Neil Young doing rockabilly covers and MC Hammer releasing a gangster rap album.

I remember seeing Johnny Cash play as a free act in the early 1990s at the California Mid-State Fair. Maybe the Velvet Underground legend did play a theme park.

I started looking through the Chronicle archives …

Great America had a pretty big advertising deal with the Chronicle, buying an ad in the pink section every week during most summers in the 1980s. When there was a band appearing during the week, they took out a quarter page ad promoting the show. Other weeks looked like the above 1986 advertisement, with a full roster of summer acts.

Again, the lineups looked a lot like free acts look now. It definitely didn’t seem like Lou Reed’s scene. I would compare it to seeing The Shins or maybe Arcade Fire suddenly show up at the Solano County Fair.

I spent about an hour looking at pink sections from 1983 to 1988. (I couldn’t imagine Reed appearing at Great America after his popularity rose when “New York” was released in 1989.) Then I made a second pass, looking at May and late August dates.

And found this …

I love and hate so much about this 1986 Chronicle advertisement I don’t know where to start.

How did this even happen? I’m imagining some cinematic scenario, where Lou Reed’s manager is begging him to play the gig, while Great America’s interest was hanging by a thread. “You’ve got to play the amusement parks if you want people to buy your new music, Lou! The kids just don’t want to hear ‘I’m Waiting for My Man’ any more …”

Or maybe the guy who booked these bands for Great America was a huge Lou Reed fan, and called in every favor to make this happen. I consider this the less likely scenario, because anyone who loved Lou Reed’s music wouldn’t want to watch him to suffer in a gig at Great America.

Mostly, I want to know whose decision it was to include that sweet guitar clip art in the background. That looks like something my grandmother would have used to wrap a birthday present when I turned 15.

I looked in the next week’s pink section, and found this item from Chronicle rock critic Joel Selvin …

Former Great America employee Ben Gardella remembers watching the concert when he was a high school senior. His supervisor at the park recommended that he make the show. Here’s his memory, from an e-mail he sent this week:

We had general admission tickets which were further back from the “reserved seating.” We were house right about 200 rows up. The amphitheater was a shallow bowl used every day of the summer for giant Tweety Bird and Sylvester the Cat shows. I couldn’t drink yet but most of the crowd was well into their 30s. There were lots of leather jackets. Park security frowned on the pot smoke. My supervisor and I enjoyed that. We knew most of them.

“We are wandering around the park waiting for the concert and we come upon Reed, surrounded by four beefy men. They are all looking up at The Edge, a free-fall ride. So I walk right up to him. I have this ability. I am literally as threatening as a mosquito, so body guards don’t even seem to notice me. Lou looks down at me. He is not pleased. He looks at his body guards like, “What the f***?!” I absolutely don’t know what to say so I ask for an autograph. He frowns and sighs almost hard enough to blow me over. “You got a pen?” he asks. I pat my pants. He shrugs, turns, and walks away.”

A commenter with the name I Am Spartacus wrote this first-hand account on DailyKos.com:

Very surreal, and about as far from The Factory as you could possibly get; nevertheless, ever the professional, Lou Reed still put on a good show. If he was angry, frustrated, and/or disappointed with the venue, the vibe, the audience, he sure didn’t show it. I’m sure that it was probably the one and only time that “Walk On the Wild Side” was performed to the accompaniment of screams from those riding The Tidal Wave coaster in the background.

One more from former park employee Ben Gardella:

I remember him solo with a guitar sitting on a stool for much of the show. The whole thing had a county fair feel to it with an added bit of menace with the park security present. He smirked and joked about it. I remember nothing of the band. He played his Honda commercial hit. He played a few of the quieter VU songs I recognized more. I remember thinking afterward how unbelievably cool he was. Way too cool for the surroundings, and for us, really. I remember feeling like I got away with something. My supervisor agreed.

I also heard from Al Jazeera culture critic Bill Wyman, who says he attended the concert with Bay Area-based rock critic Gina Arnold. Wyman wasn’t able to share any memories by press time, and I wasn’t able to track down Arnold.

Reed would lay off the synthesized sound that sullied “Mistrial,” and return to strong form three years later with “New York.” Jane’s Addiction paid tribute in 1987 with a cover of the Reed-penned Velvets song “Rock and Roll.” Music fans as a whole regained their senses about his greatness, and I doubt Reed had to play a theme park ever again.

RIP Lou Reed. I hope you at least got a chance to ride Willard’s Whizzer. Any memories are appreciated in the comments. Needless to say, if someone has a photo of this event, you will be hailed as a The Big Event hero. Please send it to phartlaub@sfchronicle.com.

* Editor’s note to Great America historians: Yes, it’s true that the park didn’t have a water slide back in 1986. That headline is at best a stretch — I’m going to argue that the log ride is a flume, and qualifies on a technicality. Mostly I just didn’t want to write another one.

PETER HARTLAUB is the pop culture critic at the San Francisco Chronicle and founder/editor of The Big Event. He takes requests. Follow him on Twitter atwww.twitter.com/peterhartlaub. Follow The Big Event on Facebook.